


It's Not What It Looks Like

by f-ing-ruthless-baz (f_ing_ruthless_baz)



Series: Carry On Ficlets [12]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Awkwardness, Ficlet, First Meetings, M/M, Makeup, POV Simon Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25669975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_ing_ruthless_baz/pseuds/f-ing-ruthless-baz
Summary: I’d hoped to come in early this morning, but I had trouble finding the right room and wound up a few minutes late. I’m still the first one here, though, so I should have time to get set up before he arrives. Acheron Bloodgood himself.Baz Pitch.I’ve heard rumours about him, of course. Some celebrity blogs say that people who work with him think he’s a pretentious arsehole. Other, moreofficial, articles and interviews with his colleagues say he’s very professional and “a pleasure to work with.” I have a feeling that someone’s opinion on what it’s like to work with him depends on how much money that person makes.I don’t actually know how I’ll fare, up against him. If I’ll be a respected colleague or a subservient crew member. I do, after all, have the power to make him look very unflattering.It's Simon's first day doing the stage makeup for television's hottest vampire, and it's most difficult star.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Ficlets [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1453180
Comments: 8
Kudos: 90





	It's Not What It Looks Like

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a prompt request by bazzybelle: _Celebrity!AU Meet Messy "I know this looks bad, but I swear it's not!"_
> 
> It's also a bit of a prequel to my fic [**Special Effects**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20249863), where Baz plays a vampire in a popular TV show and Simon is his makeup artist. This fic would be about a year before that one takes place. You don't really have to read that one to get this one, just know that "Acheron Bloodgood" is Baz's character's name. 😂

Acheron Bloodgood stares at me as I set down my train case.

The photo is taped to the mirror above the counter, so I’ll have a reference for today’s makeup. It’s just a test, today. Probably to see if I can handle the job.

I’ve never worked on a television set before. Most of my experience in makeup has been for low-budget theatre productions and student films. (And I did my best friend’s makeup for her wedding, although there was far less gore than my typical jobs.)

The producers seem to have liked my portfolio enough to give me a chance, though. As they should. I’m good at what I do. I think.

I’d hoped to come in early this morning, but I had trouble finding the right room and wound up a few minutes late. I’m still the first one here, though, so I should have time to get set up before he arrives. Acheron Bloodgood himself. _Baz Pitch_.

I’ve heard rumours about him, of course. Some celebrity blogs say that people who work with him think he’s a pretentious arsehole. Other, more _official_ , articles and interviews with his colleagues say he’s very professional and “a pleasure to work with.” I have a feeling that someone’s opinion on what it’s like to work with him depends on how much money that person makes.

I don’t know how I’ll fare, up against him. If I’ll be a respected colleague or a subservient crew member. I do, after all, have the power to make him look very unflattering.

Acheron’s snarling, bloodied face in front of me makes me doubt that, actually. It would take a lot of makeup to make Baz Pitch look anything other than perfect, I think.

The latch on my train case is stuck when I try to open it, and when I finally pop it open, the lid flaps to one side and two bottles of foundation roll out, right off the edge of the counter and onto the floor with a splatter.

I swear under my breath and grab a handful of tissues to try to mop up the mess, but there’s so much of it that the tissues just sort of smear it around. I have to get this mess cleaned up before Baz gets here—I wouldn’t at all be surprised if he could get me fired on my first day for this—so without another thought I pull my t-shirt off over my head and use it to wipe up the remaining mess. I wrap the broken bottles up in it so I can throw them out, since this t-shirt is ruined anyway. I left my hoodie on a chair when I came in; I can just wear that for the rest of the day.

The door opens just as I finish wiping up the last spot of foundation, and I freeze. I don’t even have to look to guess who it is. I can feel the cold judgment wash over the entire room.

“I know this looks bad,” I say quickly, turning to see Baz Pitch darkening the doorway as I clutch the bundle of fabric in front of my bare chest. “But I swear it’s not!”

Baz arches one perfectly sculpted eyebrow and glances from the bundle to my face. “What is it, then?”

“I just—Some of the makeup exploded on the floor and I needed something to wipe it up and—”

He raises his hand and I stop. “Fine, I don’t care,” he says, then eyes me with distaste. “Just put _something_ on.”

I nod and shove my t-shirt in the bin before grabbing my hoodie and pulling it on.

“You’re the new makeup artist, are you?” Baz asks, walking over to the counter with my train case. He flips open the other half of the lid, like he’s bored, then looks up at the photo of himself hanging above it.

“Er, yeah. I’m Simon. I just—”

“ _Vampire mode_ today, I suppose,” he adds, scowling at the photo. “Hunting.”

“I think they want to see how the blood looks with the new lighting,” I say, even though he probably already knows.

“Very well,” he says, turning away dramatically and taking a seat in the elevated chair in front of me. “But I have no interest in making small talk.”

“Right. Yeah.” I nod again and finish opening up the layers of the train case to get out the things I’ll need. I have plenty of other base makeup that I’ll be able to make do, plus the powders and eyeliner and fake blood. The prosthetics for his cheeks are in a box next to it. (They exaggerate his cheekbones when he’s hunting prey to make him look sharper, but I don’t think he needs it.)

He’s completely silent, scrolling on his phone, while I get everything ready. When it comes time to actually apply something to his face, I’m too embarrassed to ask him to move. It’s strange to have to tell an actual _celebrity_ what to do, especially one who seems to like to call all the shots.

“Um… D’you mind if…” I say, and he glances up at me without lifting his head.

“Use your words,” he says impatiently.

I exhale through my nose in frustration. “I need you to look up so I can do your makeup,” I tell him, raising my voice a touch too loud. At least I managed not to throw in any profanities.

He lifts his head and eyes me with a calmness that suggests he’s still in charge even if I’m the one giving him instructions. “Go on, then.”

He’s still watching me as I get in closer to him, and it makes me feel like I’m going to drop the brush in my hand. His gaze is intense, like he’s just waiting for me to slip up so he can have me sacked. I try to ignore it.

We don’t talk at all as I apply his base layer, and I can feel his eyes on me even though I’m careful to avoid meeting them with mine. The only words spoken between us are my sporadic directions. Look up. Turn left. A bit more.

He does what I tell him, anyway. At one point, when I’m contouring his jawline, I forget that he’s a Big Star and I gently hook my knuckle under his chin to lift it slightly. He doesn’t even say anything about it. He just watches.

“I… should warn you,” he says while I’m turned away, sharpening an eye pencil. He almost sounds nervous, but I must be imagining it. “I don’t do well with… foreign objects… near my eyes.”

I look over at him curiously. “You mean this?” I ask, holding up the pencil. He tightens his jaw and nods. “Alright, well, we’ll take it slow, then.”

He looks hesitant when I get close again. This time I lean in even further until we’re eye level with each other. His eyes are closed now, thankfully. This would be far too awkward if he were staring right at me.

I fill in his upper lash line, just for definition. This isn’t supposed to be glamorous makeup, although it would probably suit him. His eyelashes are surprisingly long.

“Open your eyes,” I say, so quietly that I worry he won’t hear me over the sound of my nervous breathing. He does, though.

I almost stop breathing altogether when his eyes lock on mine. They’re a striking colour—deep blue and green and grey—even though he’s not wearing lenses yet. There’s flecks of lightness in them, too. Something I wouldn’t have known from a distance.

“Now look all the way up, for me,” I say, as I tilt his chin slightly.

He rolls his eyes up as far as he can, but he flinches when my hand gets close. “Sorry—” he mutters.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. I hold his chin gently with my thumb to keep him steady. “Just take a deep breath and relax your shoulders.”

I continue with his eyeliner once he’s calmed, and he does a good job of keeping still for the rest of it.

We don’t say anything else as I finish his makeup and get his prosthetics on, but the air in the room feels different. As if both of us are less on edge, now. It’s possible working with him might not actually be so bad…

I step aside to let him take a look in the mirror when once I’ve finished. He angles his head in different directions to see all of the work I did and examines it appraisingly.

“Seems fine, I suppose,” he says. He immediately turns his attention to his phone and starts texting someone as he heads for the door. “I’m late, though,” he adds, turning back to face me. “And I’m telling them it’s your fault.”

He walks out before I can argue, and I’m left to pack up all my supplies, hoping that I won’t get fired for this. Which might not be the worst thing, after all.

I think working with Baz Pitch is going to be a nightmare.


End file.
